He helped the girls to alight, then strode on ahead, skirting the edge of
the wood.

"If you see me stop, then you stop," he said. "Don't come on until I say
so. If you hear me talk to anyone, wait and don't speak."

Clasping hands, the girls slowly followed. The side of the road was filled
with clods. The road itself was mud to the shoe tops. Many times they
stumbled and almost fell. Only at intervals could they see the form of
their guide.

When they reached the main street, Jefferies paused. It was filled with
miners, each with his lantern. These lights helped Jefferies to determine
his next move. He saw in which direction the crowd tended. The murmur of
many voices could be heard; but there was no uproar.

"The women will either be out in the street with the men, or home asleep,"
he said at last. "Either way, we're safe. We'll cross here and get behind
this row of houses and keep on until we're close to 'The Miners' Rest.'
They'll see us then. But no matter."

Slowly they pushed their way through backyards. Fortunately there were no
division fences. The winter's crop of ashes and tin cans was beneath their
feet. They stumbled, ran into barrels and boxes, waded through mud holes,
yet Nora's spirits never flagged.

As they came to the last of the houses, Jefferies again paused until Nora
and Elizabeth came up to him.

"There at the corner is 'The Miners' Rest,'" he said, pointing to a low,
wooden building.

"That ramshackle affair!" cried Nora. "Somehow I had the impression it was
a big hotel."

"They don't need that kind among miners," was the reply. "This is just a
drinking-place, nothing more. Every miner in Bitumen is there. Look at
those women. They're worse than the men."

A group of women with hair hanging, dressed in dirty wrappers, and shawls
about their shoulders, stood together under the flickering corner lamp. To
judge from their gesticulations, they were much excited. They were all
talking at once and shaking their clenched fists in defiance.

"Are you afraid to go through that mob?" asked Jefferies.

"No; we dare not be afraid of anything now. Push ahead, Jefferies,
straight to the door, and on through until I find my father. Don't stop.
We'll keep at your heels. Draw down your veil, Elizabeth, and put up your
collar. Don't speak or tell who you are. Remember the miners know you."

Following her suggestion, Jefferies crossed the street, pushing his way
through the throng, as though he w